He laughed lightly. “You mean just because a bunch of us crazy kids made some stupid mistakes, you think that makes God any less than he was before?”
“I’m not sure what I think anymore.”
He gently pushed a strand of hair away from my face. “Cass, I believe in God and Jesus as much and maybe even more than I ever did. I just don’t believe in all this.” He waved his arms as if to encompass the entire farm. “Maybe we started out all right—” he shook his head—“or maybe not. But somewhere along the line we began to go way off track. We quit thinking for ourselves and just totally allowed Sky to lead us. But I sure don’t think that’s God’s fault. And I made a decision this week. When I get out of here, I plan on serving God—not a man who thinks he’s God.”
I considered his words. “Yeah, maybe you’re right.”
And then he kissed me on the cheek and set out on his mission, and I was left alone with only his words to ponder. I had never realized that Skip was so deep. And suddenly I wondered if perhaps I was interested in more than just this pretense of a relationship with him. Maybe he was the kind of person I should hold on to. Maybe, as strange as it seemed, God had put us both here, and through all this, so that we could be together—maybe forever. This unexpected thought was exciting to me and I started to grasp a whole new perspective on God. Could he take something as messed up as the Funny Farm and bring something good out of it?
With growing hopes and eager expectations, crouching by the opened window, I waited for Skip to return for me. He had firmly instructed me to stay right there until I literally saw the whites of his eyes. “Just in case anything goes wrong,” he’d warned. We knew that was a possibility. Maybe the dogs wouldn’t be hungry. Or perhaps someone could be hanging around and prevent him from feeding them or turning off the generator. And we knew if I went out wandering around and looking for him we could really wind up with a mess on our hands. And so I waited by the window, ears and eyes tuned into the night, my heart pumping with adrenaline and anxiety as the minutes slowly ticked by.
Lights-out came and went, but still Skip didn’t return. I listened hard into the darkness but only heard what seemed like the normal sounds of people heading off to their various beds, doors slamming, people saying good night, dogs barking, a baby crying. Just the regular stuff.
Slowly the farm grew more quiet. And still I waited…and waited. It took every ounce of my self-control (which had been fairly well developed by then) not to climb out the window and go see what was up. But I took Skip’s warning to heart and stayed posted.
When Skip didn’t return after what I felt certain must be several hours—I guessed it was well past midnight—I began to feel sick and panicky inside. What if something really big had gone wrong? What if they had caught Skip and were now onto us?
Suddenly I realized that to protect Skip and myself I should appear to be asleep in bed, just in case someone came looking. So I stripped off my overalls, rolled them up, and shoved them back into my bag, then jerked on a T-shirt Skip had tossed on the floor and crawled into bed, shivering from both an icy fear and the chill of the night. My body as rigid as a board and my heart still thumping against my chest, I waited and waited, barely breathing. I knew beyond a doubt now that something had gone wrong.
Please, help us, dear God, I prayed silently and desperately (for the second time in two weeks). Okay, God, I really do believe you’re the only one who can get us out of here. So, please, please, help us. And watch over Skip.
Just then the door to my room opened and there standing like an ominous shadow was Mountain, a kerosene lantern in his hand. “Get up!” he demanded.
I leaped up and scrambled for my skirt, still lying in a heap by the bed. I barely had it buttoned before Mountain grabbed me by the arm and pulled me out of the room and down the steep, ladderlike stairs.
Soon we were standing before Sky and two of the newer brothers in the living room of the farmhouse. The generator to the house had been turned back on, making the room bright and garish. And although it appeared that only Sky and the three brothers were present, I sensed others were around, watching us, listening in hallways or from behind partially closed doors.
“Where is your husband?” asked Sky in an eerily calm voice.
At first I didn’t know what he meant. Then I realized I was a married woman now. “I don’t know,” I answered honestly.
“When did you last see him?”
“Tonight,” I said, glancing back and forth at the brothers, wondering what was going on and whether or not they had discovered Skip. “He went down to use the bathroom just before lights-out.”
Sky slowly nodded, pressing his fingertips together. “And you weren’t concerned when he didn’t return?”
“I guess I fell asleep.” I looked down at the floor.
“Yes, I’m sure you’ve had a very tiring night…” The way Sky said it sounded more like a question than a statement.
“Where is Stone?” I asked, looking up and meeting Sky’s gaze.
“He’s gone.” Sky’s eyes held mine, as if to test me.
“Gone?” I made no attempt to conceal my confusion and horror. “What do you mean?”
“I mean he left.”
“He left?” I shook my head in disbelief. “But why? How?”
“That’s what we want to ask you.”
“But—but how would I know?” I felt real tears filling my eyes at the thought of Skip abandoning me here like this. It seemed inconceivable, unbelievable.
Sky continued gazing at me, evenly, as if discerning the inner secrets of my heart. And to be honest, I wasn’t sure that he couldn’t.
Totally defeated, I collapsed onto my knees, my colorful skirt billowing up around me like a parachute, then slowly shrinking to the ground. I fell forward and just sobbed uncontrollably—the whole while wondering, Why, why, why? Why would Skip do this? Why would he leave without me? Why would he put me through this? I had trusted him. He had seemed so real, so sincere. What about that stuff he’d just said about God tonight? I’d believed him! Oh, was I really such a fool?
Finally I felt someone gently tugging on my arm. I looked up to see Venus hovering over me. “Come with me,” she said solemnly.
And I was taken upstairs, back to my old room where I was placed under what I assumed to be “house arrest.” Venus informed me that I was not to leave that room under any circumstances.
For the next day I stayed in my old room, by myself, in something of a daze or maybe even shock. Meals were brought to me, but I had no appetite. By late that evening, someone knocked on my door. I didn’t bother to get up or even to answer. I knew they would simply walk in. To my surprise, it was Star. Although it was dark, I could sense her presence by the jingling of her jewelry and the smell of heavy cosmetics and cheap perfume.
“Please come with me, child,” she said kindly.
I stood, physically weak and emotionally drained, still wearing the same rumpled clothes as yesterday. I followed her down to the living room where it appeared the “council” awaited me.
It’s not that we had an “official” council per se, but there were always certain people who were in the higher echelons—Sky’s inner circle, I suppose. At that time, his circle consisted of Mountain and Venus and Star.
“We’ve come to a decision,” said Sky after Star was seated. I remained standing before them, like the convicted felon about to go to the electric chair. “Do you have anything to say to us first?”
I looked from face to face, trying to determine what it was they were thinking. How much did they know? What did they want from me? But, as usual, their faces were impossible to read.
“I don’t know what to say,” I finally said. “I don’t know what to think.” I sadly shook my head. “All I can do is ask for your mercy.” I looked directly at Sky, knowing this was exactly the penitent sort of behavior he thrived upon. It made him feel both powerful and benevolent.
He smiled, then nodded to the others.
“See? I told you she has great potential.”
I tried not to register surprise at this unexpected compliment, but merely looked down—humbly, I hoped—at my bare toes poking from beneath the hem of my skirt.
“Yes, I have always sensed Rainbow to be a deeply spiritual child,” said Star dramatically.
“And for the most part she’s been a good servant in the kitchen,” added Venus. “She has worked harder than most of the sisters.”
I stared at Venus in disbelief. Was she mocking me? But her expression appeared sober and genuine.
Mountain said nothing, just studied me carefully, and for some reason, of the four I feared his discernment the most. “I’m not so sure,” he finally said.
“Come now, Mountain,” said Star in a melodic voice. “The child is an innocent. Can’t you see this by observing her countenance?” Then Star stood and walked toward me, raising her arms in the air as she came near. She moved her hands slowly in an arch over my head and then back down to my shoulders, again and again, as if she were feeling the air around me. “I sense truth and peace in her aura,” she proclaimed in her theatrical voice, full of authority. Then finally, as if exhausted, her flabby and wrinkled arms fell limply to her sides and she sighed deeply.
“I believe Star is right,” confirmed Sky. “Rainbow, you are hereby released from all accusations. You may rejoin the family and return to your regular duties.” He smiled at me. “Have you anything to say now?”
Knowing full well that he expected me to fall to my knees and express my gratitude, I didn’t disappoint him. I knew I’d been spared from something—something ominous and probably horrible. And although I had no idea what that something was, I knew I should be thankful.
The next few days passed uneventfully. I quietly resumed my role in the kitchen. I worked in silent competence, like a well-trained zombie.
It’s as if something in me had died the night that Skip had abandoned me. Not the old Rainbow me, for she was already dead and buried, but something more. The real me, Cassandra Jane, fighter, survivor—she had given up. The only energy I possessed now was to peel and cut and slice and boil and wash and chop and stir and bake… and that was all.
Then toward the end of the week I overheard a conversation that, like a jolt of electroshock therapy (the kind they once used to stimulate mental patients) jarred me back into consciousness—back into reality!
I had walked out to the pigpen to dump the slop bucket of kitchen scraps—a job one of the sisters had neglected for two days. Not appreciating the accumulation of flies the bucket brought into the kitchen, I had decided to rid the back porch of this nasty business myself. But as I crouched in the shadow right next to the pigpen, carefully pouring the slop into the trough to avoid splashing it on my bare feet, I overheard two brothers talking quietly, with the kind of emotion that makes your ears prick up and listen. The small metal building separated us, but their voices carried with clarity.
“Stone had it coming,” proclaimed one man. I recognized his voice as one of the brothers who’d been with Sky that night when Mountain had taken me to stand before them, that night when Skip had escaped without me.
“I’m not so sure,” said the other. “There could’ve been another way.”
“What, just let him go? What if he’d gone to the police or the FBI? What then?”
“He promised he wouldn’t.”
“But how could we trust him?”
“But it would’ve been better than—”
“Like Mountain said, we had to do what was best for the group.”
“But it feels wrong.”
“Look, you’d better just forget all about it. It’s over and done with. And what’s done is done. Now don’t keep bringing it back up.”
I squatted there on the ground as if frozen for what seemed a long time but was probably mere minutes. Flies swarmed about me, and the smell of rotten food drifted up to my nostrils. Yet I hardly noticed. As realization fully hit, I began to shake and tremble, and a fresh fear washed over me to think they might discover me eavesdropping.
I felt sickened by what I’d heard, what I now suspected had happened. Skip had not escaped after all. He had been caught. Deep down inside of me, in some hidden place in my heart, I knew with a cold certainty that Skip was dead.
Somehow I managed to stand and stumble back into the kitchen, and then, just barely grabbing the edge of the counter in time, I threw up in the sink. Crying and gasping and choking, I continued to vomit again and again before I finally collapsed onto the floor in sobs, curled into a fetal position, just hoping to die. Venus found me like that and called in one of the sisters to clean up the mess I’d created while she escorted me up into my bedroom.
There she helped me to lie down on the bed and then looked me over carefully. I didn’t know why, nor did I care. I simply lay there, helpless and limp, thoroughly beaten. I closed my eyes and tried to shut everything out. I must’ve fallen asleep because when I finally awoke it was dark all around me. Somehow, perhaps only by God’s grace, I had managed to sleep for hours, but now I needed to use the bathroom.
Tiptoeing out my door and down the hallway, I paused when I heard voices. I could tell at once that it was Sky and Venus in the middle of what sounded like a serious and heated argument.
“Listen to me, Sky. I know what I saw.”
“But she can’t be pregnant,” insisted Sky.
“She has all the symptoms,” said Venus in her I-know-every-thing voice. “I found her vomiting this morning, she’s been sleeping all day, she has those dark shadows beneath her eyes—”
“But Stone said that was why he was leaving,” interrupted Sky. “Because she refused to sleep with him. He said after what happened with Sunshine he just couldn’t take it all over again.”
“But you didn’t believe him, did you?” injected Venus. “Remember, Sky, you called him a filthy liar.”
“That’s not the point.”
“The point is, I think she may be expecting Stone’s baby. And if she is, that means you were all wrong.”
“I am not wrong,” he said firmly. “I know Rainbow is still a virgin. I know. I could see it in her eyes that night.”
Venus laughed lightly. “Oh, Sky.”
“Do not mock me.”
“I’m sorry, Sky. But, really, just think about it.”
“I don’t need to think about it. God has already shown me that she’s the one. Our promise child will be born through Rainbow—that’s what her name means, you know, it means promise. And she will bear my promise child.”
At that point I knew I could stand no more. I feared I might actually explode with words and rage and accusations that would only put me into worse trouble, and so I bit into my lip and tiptoed back to my room. And despite my resolution just days ago (when I’d believed Skip had abandoned me) when I had sworn that I would never, ever pray to God again, I now fell on my knees next to my bed and prayed. It was all I knew how to do just then.
I prayed and prayed and prayed—all kinds of things. It was just like opening Pandora’s box—everything just started flying out! I asked God why he’d allowed all this to happen. I asked him if Skip was okay. Was he alive? Was he with God right now? I just prayed and prayed, like I’ve never prayed before. And when Venus walked into my room, that’s how she found me.
“Rainbow,” she said quietly. “I need to talk to you. And I need you to be totally honest with me. Okay?”
Unsure of how best to answer, I simply nodded, then stood. “What is it?” I asked as I sat down on my bed, feeling surprisingly calmed and strengthened.
She sat next to me and took my hands into hers—a strange gesture for her. But I didn’t resist her act of kindness. “When I saw you getting sick down in the kitchen I thought it might be because you’re expecting a baby. Do you think this is possible?”
Now in what was probably just a split second, I wondered what the safest answer might be. If I lied and told her I was pregnant, it would make it a
ppear as if Skip had lied to Sky about our wedding night and that would naturally put me in greater suspicion regarding his botched escape plan. But if I told the truth that I could not be pregnant, Sky would most likely try to force himself upon me before too long. And so I shot up a quick and silent prayer, and to my surprise felt an answer: to simply tell the truth.
“I am not pregnant, Venus. That would be an impossibility.”
“Are you positive?”
“Well, I believe in order to become pregnant you must first have sex. And since I have not, I would have to assume that I’m not pregnant.”
She nodded. “Okay. Well, I was just wondering since it seemed you had all the symptoms.”
“Oh, that,” I said dismissively. “I had just emptied the slop bucket and I think the pigpen smell got to me.” I looked down at my hands lying limply in my lap. “And I suppose this whole thing about Stone running away is still pretty upsetting to me. It makes me feel like a real failure as a new wife, you know.” I turned and looked at her, hoping for some sympathy, although I knew it was a long shot.
She nodded. “Yeah, that must’ve been hard. I don’t know what I’d do if Mountain pulled something like that.” She started to stand, then stopped. “And if you don’t mind me asking, Rainbow, when did you have your last monthly cycle?”
I paused for a moment to remember. “Actually, I think it’s been nearly a month right now.”
“So you should have it any day then.”
“Yes.”
I could see the wheels spinning in her head, as if she were mentally calculating (and I knew from reading the natural childbirth book exactly what she was adding up—it should be about two weeks before I would become a good, fertile baby factory). “Well, good night then, Rainbow. Sorry to bother you, but I was just concerned. Now you sleep well.”
I don’t think I slept a bit that night. I felt more at peril than ever, and so once again I began to pray in earnest. It seemed that prayer was all I had. And as strange as it sounds, it’s as if I could feel Skip leading me through this horrible thing, telling me that everything was going to be okay, that he was just fine now, and that I could trust God. And somehow that sustained me.
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